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[BatRep] Apoc - The Defense of CH22 - Prologue

The private ran. He ran faster than he could've imagined possible. When
sentries stepped forward to challenge his intentions he waved the piece of paper
in his hands at them, "There's no time!! Colonel Xiev needs to see what I have
here in my hand, lest we all die should I be any later than is necessary!" He
finally made his way to the Colonel's strategium. "Sir! Our scout forces on the
ground have confirmed a large wave of Greenskins headed this way, larger than we
have ever seen before, enough of the foul mutants to to seem like a sea of
green."

Xiev Krotex had been in overall command of CH22 since it's inception. Orks
were nothing new to his command. "Show me." With a curt nod he beckoned the
young private to him. Practically shoving the paper into the Colonel's face,
the private at last collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. After only a short
moment, the Colonel began barking orders to his aides and attendants. "Issue
General Quarters, Code Alpha Omega. Prepare all Heavy Support teams to battle
stations and begin fortifying the outward walls. Get a logistics officer here
now so we can begin the process of setting up supply and ration statements. All
quartermasters are to to re-inventory ammunition and war supplies, down to the
last Lho Stick and Las Pack. Have the Astropaths immediately begin sending for
aid system wide. Pray to the Emperor our calls will not fall on deaf ears.

The bridge of the ship was dark, a shadowy web of cables, servitor chatter,
and a few mortal beings who had the honor of being what little percentage of the
ship was human crew. The remainder of the ship was much the same, all except
one place, the personal cell of one of the Angels of the Emperor. Here, in
solemn

meditation, the eyes of a giant slowly opened, his iris and pupils a dying
white shade. Slowly rising, garbed only in the training chiton of his chapter,
a smile crossed his face. The Rune Priest quickly made his way to to where the
Captain was overseeing the sparring of some of the Blood Claws. Seeing the
Priest approach his gaze turned to him, "What is it Brother?"

"We must divert to Praxus at once, the taint, it shadows the world and
threatens to swallow it whole lest we intervene."

The temporary "command post" as they were calling it was still but for the
sound of chanting. Slow and rhythmic, the cultists were focused entirely on
their task, lest one of their masters end their insignificant existence. The
area was dark and foreboding, but not nearly as much as the two beings, if they
could still be called "beings", that were present. One his armor covered in
rusty stains, with dozens of symbols adorning his worn and battered armor. He
had seen war, and ever been a participant in the bloody crucible of death that
only close quarter killing could provide. The other, his armor a midnight blue,
yet what appeared as lightning coruscated across its surface. His Terminator
armor taking the bulk of the space where the two stood.

"The greenskins...they move upon the bastion of those wretched humans
without a care or a thought. Such ignorance. This way of war is strange to us,
yet it is the fastest way to achieve our goals and end this tenuous alliance."
Spoke the Terminator.

"What do you care Sorceror?!?!" Spat the other. "Their way of war is
exactly what is needed for US achieve our goal. To the warp with your mission
and this alliance. We are only cooperating to further our own aims, as I am
certain you are as well...Night Lord. Enough idle chatter, our axes cry for
blood and the Blood God demands sacrifice, and he will get it in scores when
these final days come for the humans and whatever else answers their precious
distress calls."

"Git deez wagons and bikes ready ta splat some humie gutz boyz!!! We gotta
show Gork and Mork dat we's da toughest and strongest boyz!!" An ork. A very
big Ork was kicking his boys into the dirt around their machines, making sure
that they would all be in the best fighting condition they could be in. For
these beasts that usually meant that they were dirty, pieces were falling off,
and parts of the machines barely worked. But as long as the "killy bitz" and
the speed needles were pegged, that was all that mattered.

"Derez a big pile of stinkin' pink fleshies, and all dat dey own in that
soon to be slagged pile o' dirt, and we's got just da machine's for da job!!"
As he let out a low growl combined with a chuckle. He walked toward his bike,
the biggest,meanest looking one there, and slapped his goggles down on his torn
face.

Unbeknownst to the Orks, they were not alone. Nearby, concealed in the
shadows, eyes were watching. Super human eyes through red tinted lenses. These
eyes had no fear of the orks, and the fire burned in their hearts to slay every
last one of them. But they were not stupid nor foolhardy enough to charge
brashly into a fight head on. No their tactics were those of the saboteur, the
assassin, the cold blooded killer. Now that the Ork target was known, their
recon had come to an end. "We must inform the Captain, the Orks will no doubt
descend upon CH22 soon, and we must be there waiting for them." And with a nod
and hand gesture, a murder of Ravens took flight.

This is the prologue to an apocalypse game played between 6 players,
written as a narrative to both make it easier to document and enhance the
overall feel of the battle. The rest will be broken into 5 chapters, 1 per game
turn and will include all the pictures of the battle as well. Enjoy it, we
certainly did. - Scribed, written and embelished by my friend dmielken and posted originally on his blog Stalking Among Shadows

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